Vandetta Cosplay: Hetalia Uninstall
by hetalianorwayfan
Summary: America tries to run from the memories of his past. Based on Vandetta Cosplay's video. fail summary is fail. one-shot


Hetalia: Uninstall

Idea/Video by:Vandetta Cosplay

Story by: amber-lilac

Key: "hi" talking. _Hi_-bad memories. Hi-narration/good memories

America ran through a grassy field. He didn't know why he was running, only that his feet were taking him somewhere. Somewhere he knew very well. He stopped in a park covered in autumn leaves. He used to come here with Japan, trying to make the usually emotionless man laugh. Heck, a smile would be enough to make his day. However, behind that memory, now fresh in his mind, was a horrible one. One he never wanted to revisit.

_"America, please, stop this!" Hurt was in Japan's voice, his one unbandaged eye welling up with tears. "I never wanted to hurt you!" he managed to say through the pain. "Then why did you attack me?" America's voice was cold and unwavering, a sadistic smile on his face as he pulled the trigger on his gun._

The memory was painful, and he closed his eyes and covered his ears as the gunshot sounded. He ran the other way, almost passing an old park bench, but stopped right beside it. The very same park bench he and Lithuania would sit on, laughing and talking about the smallest of things, having coffee. But yet another terrible memory was lurking behind this one.

_Leave. Just go, Lithuania." Alfred said, his voice cold. "America, you are the worst kind of traitor, and I will never forgive you. Ever." He walked away, America lowering his gun behind him._

America closed his eyes and ran. Although Toris forgiven him, and they were good friends again, He hated himself for ever doing that. He didn't look at his surroundings, and had somehow ended up in a city, surrounded by normal people who hadn't experienced what he had. He ran passed a bridge, where he thought Japan and Lithuania were watching him. Putting his hands on the wall, he stumbled along, passing England, who was Looking at him with concern.

He ran out of the city, to a lake that he remembered all to well. The lake he and France would come to often. He remembered the times they would sit at the sparkling lakeside, pushing France's hands away when they got to close for comfort, and laughing. But again, there was that other memory, that pushed to the front of his mind.

_"You're too weak. You were never a match for me. Why did you even try? Just give it up already!" He smiled, kicking France to the ground, pointing a gun to his head. He was just about to pull the trigger. _

He ran away, again. He didn't want to see what happens next, the same thing that happened to Japan. Running faster, he came across a clearing. He remembered the good times he had there, the ones with Russia, Chasing each other in the cool spring air. He remembered Russia's scarf fluttering behind him, even though there was no need to wear one. But all good things must come to an end, and this one did in the worst way possible.

_America's gun was to Russia's head, while feeling the same cold steel to his own. They gave no regard to their friendship before. Nothing was said, no gunshots fired, just silent, cold threats. Their stares toward each other were as cold as the Siberian winter._

He started running again, back to where he had come from. Why was he running? He's supposed to be a hero, a warrior, he's supposed to not fear anything!

America was in the city again, and he found a nice looking wall. He punched the wall, trying in vain to take out his frustration and sadness, when he felt someone grab his wrist. He pushed them off in confusion, only to see that it was his brother, Canada. He backed up in confusion and hit something. He turned around only to see Canada again, looking at him with a cold, hard stare. Confused, he ran away from the wall only to be caught by a fence. He closed his gloved hands around the cold metal of the fence. He felt trapped, and that was a feeling he hated. However, he also hated that he was running. But from what? His memories? He needed freedom from all the bad memories. He started to run again.

Soon he found himself out of the city, running through a field. A field that meant so much to him. Another memory flashed in his mind.

_He was a small child, picking up pieces of grass as he walked along. He didn't see England because his back was turned. England turned around, and America ran toward him, he was just about to grab England's outstretched hand._

Just as the other's had, the memory changed quickly. Though this change was too quick for his liking.

_America pulled England across in an attempt to get him off guard. They ran toward each other, starting a fist fight. _

He ran toward England, in a last ditch effort to make sure he was not delusional. However, just as he reached England, still fighting the revolutionary war, the memory disappeared and he fell forward. He just caught himself and ran on, through the field. He thought he felt someone behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there. He fell down in despair and confusion, tired from trying to run from the past.

He didn't see England running toward him, concerned about his ally/friend. Alfred looked up at that moment, and when he saw England, He stood up, with England helping. He finally got up, and hugged the man he once called brother.


End file.
